There is a legend dear to lovers of coincidence, that Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" first appeared in the New York bookstores one hundred years ago, on July 4, 1855. What could be more appropriate than to have the poet of American democracy make his raucous entrance on the day consecrated to hymns of glory in praise of America? The reality was less dramatic, for the bookstores were probably closed on the holiday, and it was not until July 6 that the book began to be advertised.

Nor does this quarrel over dates amount to much more than an exercise in pedantry. It is only against the ennobling perspective of its later glory that the publication of "Leaves of Grass" takes on the dimensions of a notable event in the history of literature. We are so bemused by the exclamatory delight and prophetic wisdom with which Emerson greeted the unknown poet that we often forget the void of indifference in which the books sell.

[Whitman] openly challenged the European tradition and spoke with such exultant emphasis about America's superiority to other nations. Yet his admirers in England know that Whitman was speaking to all mankind even when he perversely suggested that freedom must have an American accent. The mature literary tradition of England found a greater obstacle in Whitman's manner than in his rather tedious celebration of his own greatness or the defiant proclamation of America's incomparable majesty.

In 1872 when Emerson edited his anthology of great poetry he refused to include a passage from "Leaves of Grass." Whitman reproached Emerson's caution in declining to honour a poet who had become the vehement symbol of rancorous controversy. When one thinks of the indignation and fury that have constantly flashed round Whitman's name one can only echo the wisdom of Dr Johnson and repeat that there are some outrages which seem to be the ebullitions of minds agitated by stronger resentment than bad poetry can excite.

The explanation is offered by the fact that men attacked the myth into which Whitman had grown even more than the actual poet. Sometimes the myth becomes a sacrament. So it has been for Burns and Lincoln. Sometimes the myth becomes a communion. So it has been for Whitman. He has become the prophet and hero of the democratic faith which he often denounced and even more often misunderstood. Among many towering virtues and some garish blunders he is worth remembering if only for his immortal warning against the never-ending audacity of elected persons.

Originally published in the Manchester Guardian on 7 April 1941: In his 1858 biography, Thomas Jefferson Hogg claimed the poet had no time for food, abstaining from meat and alcohol and existing mainly on bread